Journal of Theodore Morrison

Entry 2

9th March, 1916

Dear Diary,

It's now safe to say that I'm participating in war. On the first day of our recruitment, Marshal Douglas Haig introduced us to our battle equipment. Marshal Douglas Haig handed us our uniforms and the new members of the British Expeditionary Force had to swap around so we would be able to wear fit uniforms. Some boots were too small or too big, reeking of sweat but sturdy enough to last us a long while. We would be trekking the trenches often, so I wasn't about to complain. Next, Marshal Douglas Haig assigned us to our own ammunition pouches, used to keep our bullets, a cape, grenades, a water bottle, puttees, bayonet, eating tin, helmet, haversack, rifle, and finally a shovel. All this equipment added a great deal of weight to our backs but I knew this was for our own good. Without all of it, we would be gone in a whiff.

"Basic training consists of four phases over 10 weeks, where you'll learn about the Army and train to become a Soldier. Once completed, we will travel to the Western Front and arrive in the trenches. Be aware, now that you are enlisted as a trainee, you will not, ever, be able to turn back. You must learn to listen to my command and strictly follow the rules. The consequences? Death. I might as well tell you now. The battlefield is no place to dilly dally around. Stick to each other, help each other. The only enemies we have are those on the other side," Marshal Douglas Haig had said.

The next few weeks flew by with navigating obstacles, basic building of trenches, hand to hand combat, training with rifles, learned how to handle grenades, and etc. We also conducted a multiple-day field exercise called The Forge to test our fitness, soldier skills, and survival instincts. During my training, I grew close with a lad called Michael Evans and Archie Duncan. Michael was a glove maker, tanner, and wool dealer, and had a great skill in hand to hand combat. He had a great ol' mustache and warm brown eyes, but was a good deal shorter than me. He made up for it tenfold by being agile and fast on his feet. Archie came from a farm, with a stocky frame and curly blond hair. He was a chatty fellow, and without him I knew the days would be more daft and tiresome. With him by my side, the hours wouldn't feel so painful, and sometimes I would think that it was worth the sorrow.

We three had left our families behind in hopes of restoring peace, and we would all promise each other to return back for Christmas time, urging each other to man up.

 One day, Archie confided in me, asking me to take care of his daughter if he couldn't return. His wife had long passed and there was no relative who would be responsible for his only child, Judy. She was only 6, and although currently she would manage with her grandmother, her grandmother was ill and wouldn't be a solid option. I felt his pain like mine, for losing a child can't be compared to any of this world. I knew it well, for my first child had died in Betsie's stomach. We both then weeped, hugging each other like infants once more.

I then regretted immediately for not embracing my loved ones longer and prayed to God that I would return, whole and well, to my family. Training was already grim, how much more with a real life situation?

Maybe this war would be more difficult than I ever thought before.

Maybe I had been underestimating my ability this whole time.

Maybe this was all a mistake.

But there was no turning back now.

I was committed to being the best soldier.

For the sake of my country.

For the sake of my people.

For the sake of my family.

And for the honor that came within.